


Midnight mourning

by OwlSphinx



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/M, Grief/Mourning, Old Friends
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-09
Updated: 2018-12-09
Packaged: 2019-09-14 14:09:29
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 761
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16914330
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/OwlSphinx/pseuds/OwlSphinx
Summary: As one of Severus' oldest friends you are a natural choice for him to seek help from in the midst of his grief as he mourns Lilly, even if you haven't spoken since he chose to become a death eater.





	Midnight mourning

The first time was the night she died. The hour was incredibly late when you opened your door to a man you had not seen since he chose the darker path. You didn't know in that moment what had happened to cause him to seek you out, but you didn't need the explanation at the time. One look at him told you all you needed to know. If you refused him now, you may as well have pulled the trigger yourself. If that wasn't what made up your mind to give him everything, his next action sealed your fate.

"Please." he whispered, low and barely audibly whilst you stared deep into his eyes, drowning in the pain you found pooled there. It was the first of four words total he would speak aloud that time. Never had one word conveyed so much meaning.

You placed a hand on his porcelain cheek. He looked like he might break into a thousand pieces just being touched by another in this small way. Leaning in, your lips connected for the first time. He tasted of the alcohol he had been consuming for hours before he had come to you; bitter and sharp to match his obvious loneliness.

Tonight you would be whatever your long lost friend required.

Seperating after a few seconds, you pulled him in through the door and closed it. He needed help to remove his outter cloak which you hung up carefully on the coat stand as he watched you wordlessly from the hallway.

Bringing the dark haired man into your small studio apartment you offered him a drink which he declined with a shake of the head. You asked him if he would like to talk although you already knew he would decline again. You had simply asked to fill the stretching silence between you and the ghost of a man you once knew so well. Another shake. 

Closing the distance you took hold of his shoulders. He would no longer meet your eye. He was miles away in his mind but you could feel his body shaking under your hands. Not from the cold but as a physical symptom of how emotionally unstable he was feeling. He was normally so controlled and you began to feel real panic for your old friend.

"Sev, tell me what I can do. I want to help. I need to help. I still care about you. The years changed nothing." 

Still no reaction. You were starting to think he may never react until suddenly your mind found it. The one phrase you knew would snap him out of it.

"If you can't tell me, show me."

It was a low blow. It was the exact words you had used when you were teens, when his father had first beat him badly. Then too had he shown up at your door in the middle of the night. He had shown you the cuts and bruises and you had charmed them away. At your request you had never told a soul, and from that day on you had always been there for him. Whatever he needed.

His eyes snapped to you now, tears welling up in them, but the spell was broken.

Hands grabbing your face he pulled you into him as he gently but insistently kissed you for the second time. Your bodies pressed together, you would your hands around his neck and into his longish hair, his own slipping down your sides and finding a natural grip on your waist. He pulled you into him needily and you felt his urgency to be touched and held by another.

Everything went by like a blur after that. Clothes melted away as did inhibitions. Considering his excess of alcohol he performed admirably, though his lack of experience made for a fumbled and less flourished affair. You didn't let him see your lack of satisfaction for a moment, even when he cried out her name instead of yours as he came all to quickly inside of you. Tonight was simply about him getting what he needed. You let him lead the whole way through.

In the morning you awoke to him sitting, fully clothed, on the edge of your bed beside you. He learnt down l, kissed your forehead and tucked a strand of your hair behind your ear. 

"Thank you." Were the final two words he spoke, not unkindly, before standing and seeing himself out. 

You were left sitting in your now cold and lonely bed wondering when or if you would see him again.


End file.
